Slow Down, Cowboy
by Autumnstar17
Summary: Sherlock, Mary, and John tell a story about the Wild West with themselves as the main characters. In it, ex-convict Moriarty and a gang of thugs return to Little Rock Springs seeking to get even with Sheriff Holmes. Unfortunately, in his time of need Holmes finds himself all but abandoned by everyone he had once considered loyal.
1. Chapter 1

"_And Sally and I did not know what to say. Should we tell her the things that went on there that day? Should we tell her about it? What _should_ we do? Well… what would _you_ do, if your mother asked _you?" Smiling warmly, Mary shut the picture book and rubbed a hand over her stomach.

"Do you often read aloud to yourself?" a concerned voice came from the doorway. Mary looked up to see Sherlock hovering there with a half-eaten bagel in his hand. He took another bite and invited himself inside.

"How long have you been standing over there?" asked Mary.

"Depends. How long have you been reading that?"

"Couldn't have been much more than five minutes."

"Well. There you go."

"It's supposed to be good for the baby," Mary retorted. "Stuff like that keeps her stimulated. Being read to, listening to Mozart…"

"I think they meant _after_ it's born." Coming closer, Sherlock reached for the book and picked it up from the arm of her chair, holding it open with one hand. He blinked and raised both eyebrows at it.

"That would be your godfather Sherlock," the woman informed her stomach matter-of-factly. "I know he seems like a bit of a killjoy, but don't worry; underneath all that he's really just a big softy."

"_The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day… _And you're absolutely sure this counts as literature?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "C'mon now, even _you_ must have heard of Doctor Seuss."

"Heard of, yes. But I'm afraid I never had the… pleasurable childhood experience." Sherlock set the storybook back down beside where Mary was seated.

A second door to the living room swung open further and a rather flustered-looking John Watson hurried through with a loud "Hon, have you seen my—"

The man halted next to the nearest end table, stared at it for a moment, and then picked up his wristwatch with an "oh". As he fastened it around his wrist, he glanced up at his wife and former flatmate and smiled. "Ah yes, my two favorite people. Sorry. Um. Are you here at this moment for a _reason_?"

Sherlock blinked. "You invited me?"

"Well, yes, I know _that._ But you said you could come three hours from now."

"Finished what I was working on early."

"And so you just… let yourself on in?"

"Naturally."

"And it didn't occur to you to give us a few minute's heads up first?" Sherlock shrugged at this and went right on eating his bagel. The doctor let out a sigh and shook his head. "You know what? Never mind. I suppose I ought to be thankful you're coming at all."

"Thankful he owed me a favor," smirked Mary.

"Yeah. Whatever. But might I remind you, the screening _does_ start at two…"

"I can wait," Sherlock grinned back, sinking into the armchair positioned a couple feet from Mary's.

"'Course you can…"

"_Well,_" Mary started, "I was just going to begin another story, since they're not particularly long."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "Oh, _God._ Do promise me it isn't another Doctor Seuss."

"How do you feel about Green Eggs and Ham?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hey, why doesn't Sherlock read her a story?" suggested John cheerily, leaning up against the back of Mary's seat.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and frowned back at John. "_I beg your pardon_?" he repeated. But it was too late - the damage had already been done.

"I think that's a marvelous idea!" exclaimed Mary. "John, could you please be a dear and fetch—"

"No. No, absolutely not. I am _not _reading one of those idiotic made up language poetry books. You can't make me and I refuse."

"Oh, please," snorted John, rather amused by Sherlock's defiance. "As if _you_could write a better children's story."

"I bet I could," Sherlock shot back. "In fact, I bet near anyone could. Some of my lab reports demonstrate better character development than those… Well, I'm not sure I even want to call them _books_, to be perfectly honest."

"Is that so?" purred John. "Because five pounds says you couldn't."

"Five pounds says I certainly _could_."

"I could match that," Mary chimed in.

There was an uneasy pause before Sherlock jumped right into it: "Once upon a time there was a great pirate king called Captain Holmes—"

"Really? Could've sworn he was a simple farmer."

Sherlock made a face. "No, no. I'm fairly certain he was a bloody _pirate. _I should know, considering I'm the one _telling the damned thing._"

"Sorry mate, but I've got to agree with the Mrs. on this one. The version I know most definitely took place in the Wild West. Cowboys and Indians. The whole sha-bang."

"…well then maybe I _was_ mistaken. But I don't think farmer is quite right either. Now, maybe it's that this Holmes was actually a great Sheriff? Yes. That seems right. A genius who was good at his job and kept his town safe from outlaws and everyone loved and respected him for it."

"Fair enough," nodded John. "But the townspeople also very much like Sheriff Holmes' deputy, Watson."

"Who was happily married to the beautiful Lady Mary," his wife smiled.

Sherlock tilted his head. "Lady? Isn't that medieval?"

"Shhh, let her have this one."

"Fine," Sherlock sighed. "In that case, our story coincidentally takes place on the day of their wedding. All the town residents were in attendance (which probably isn't saying all that much), and after Sheriff Deputy Watson and the Lady Mary had finished saying their vows Sheriff Holmes gave a lovely speech to see them off on their sex holiday…"

"_Honeymoon._"

"Whatever."

-x-

"I have had the pleasure of working with Deputy Watson for nearly half a decade now, and I can assure you that myself aside, there is no better man to be trusted with the task of protecting this lovely little town and all of her people. In fact, Watson is perhaps the bravest, most kind, and now, thanks to the Lady Mary - sorry, MRS. WATSON - one of the happiest gentlemen on this side of the Mississippi. As Sheriff of Little Rock Springs, it is my pleasure and privilege to personally congratulate the Deputy and his new wife, and wish them many blissful years to come. To Mr. and Mrs. Watson." Raising a glass, Holmes tipped his wide-brimmed cowboy hat towards the blushing newlyweds.

"To Mr. and Mrs. Watson!" the rest of the guests in the bar cheered and lifted their own glasses and mugs into the air.

"Thanks," Watson said softly to the Sheriff. "That was… That was surprisingly sweet."

Sheriff Holmes showed off a most winning grin. "Of course. Anything for the man who has helped me keep this town safe through all these years." He quickly downed the last of his ale, slammed the empty glass down against the wooden countertop and wiped off his mouth with a silky blue ascot. "Now, don't you two have someplace to be? I couldn't help but notice your carriage waiting outside."

"Oh, yes!" Mary exclaimed, tugging at Watson's sleeve. "C'mon, dear, if we hurry we can still make it to the lake before dark!"

Watson detached his silver star badge and held it out to his friend. "Mm, and here's this to hang onto while I'm off-duty."

"Keep it. It'd probably just get lost on my desk if I held onto the thing anyway."

"Oh? Alright, then." The man put the pin back into his vest. "You sure you can keep Little Rock Springs in check while I'm gone?" Watson teased, the Lady Mary already beginning to drag him out of the bar by the crook of his arm.

"That's the plan." With a superficial grin, Holmes waved at the couple until they disappeared through the swinging door entrance, giggling all the while. Once they were gone Holmes turned back to the bartender, who was currently cleaning out a mug with a small rag. "I'll have another one of those," he announced rather loudly.

Outside, the Sheriff Deputy and his new wife climbed into their horse drawn carriage and set out along the dusty path heading out of town.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Mary sighed, leaning back in her seat. "A little cabin by the lake, all to ourselves for an entire fortnight!"

"It wouldn't be the first time we went down there together," pointed out Watson.

"Well, yes, but it'll be different now that we're married."

"How so?"

"For one, we won't be sharing the space with your _sister_."

The couple traveled for just short of two hours before pulling over to stop for lunch. Despite her husband's claim that they could shave off some time traveling in full daylight if they ate on the move, the Lady Mary insisted upon them having their picnic in a traditional sit-down fashion. They found a quaint little meadow alongside the road, where they covered the ground with a blanket and began unpacking their things.

"These look wonderful," Watson commented, taking a sandwich out from a wooden basket they'd brought along.

Mary beamed. "Thank you. I made them this morning."

They'd only just begun the mean, however, when a young boy came riding down along the path on horseback. Upon seeing them he pulled back the reigns, stopping his horse just behind their carriage. "Oi, can I interest you folks in a copy of this morning's paper?"

Watson tilted his head to the side. "Innit a tad late for the paper?"

"Rough start on the day," the boy answered. "What'll it be, then? Only costs a penny."

"Oh, no, I think we're quite all—"

"Sure, we'll take one," Mary answered for him. Watson shot her a look. "What? It's for a good cause. 'Sides, it's important to know what's going on in neighboring towns. Could be relevant."

"Relevant to what, exactly?"

The Lady Mary ignored him and came up to the boy with her coin purse out. He dismounted his horse and took the penny before reaching into his satchel and handing Mary a copy of the newspaper. She thanked him and the boy continued on his way.

Watson shook his head. "Never could say no to a kid asking for money, couldn't you?"

"Hey… John?"

"Mm?"

"Come have a look at this."

Watson hesitated for a moment before getting up and joining his wife. "Jim Moriarty, arrested for armed robbery and multiple accounts of murder, released early from lifelong sentence," Mary read aloud. "Moriarty - wasn't the the fellow Sherlock got locked up not long before we met?"

-x-

"Now hold up," Sherlock interrupted. "Moriarty? _Seriously_? What's _he _doing in this story?"

"Well. Every good Western needs a classic villain character," John argued.

"And you couldn't have just… made someone up? It just _had _to be someone we've had a history with in real life?"

"Someone's touchy," whispered Mary, looking away from the others.

"It was convenient, alright? I'm not good with making up characters."

The consulting detective folded his arms and slouched back in his seat unhappily. "That's all very well, although I do vaguely recall that _I _was the one being asked to come up with a children's story."

"It's become more of a team effort, really," John shrugged. He'd relocated to the arm of Mary's chair since they'd begun. "That being said, are we good? I promise I'll hand it back over to you in just a moment."

Sherlock made somewhat of a grunting noise, which John took as his cue to clear his throat and continue.


	2. Chapter 2

"It was," Watson confirmed, leaning over her wife's shoulder to look at the paper. "This is bad. If Moriarty's out, he's probably on his way into town as we speak. Swore he'd have his revenge on the Sheriff soon as he got the chance."

"Someone should warn him," Mary said worriedly. "By himself Moriarty's probably not much of a threat, but if reunited with his old cronies…"

"He'll see the paper for himself soon enough. Besides, it'll take half a day's worth of traveling by train for Moriarty to even make it here, and even longer by horseback. Holmes has plenty of time to get a leg up on the situation."

"But what if he doesn't? We should turn back, just in case. We're close enough to still get there nightfall."

John frowned and pressed the back of his hand against the woman's cheek. "But Mary… What about our honeymoon?"

"It's not like we won't have another chance, John. We have our whole lives ahead of us. But aside from being your boss, I know that Sheriff Holmes is your friend, too, and if Moriarty and his gang of train robbers might have the jump on him if we don't do anything about it."

-x-

"Okay, okay, I'm going to cut you off right there," Sherlock interrupted again. "While I applaud your effort, papers didn't work like that. And if Sheriff Holmes had already beaten Moriarty once before, wouldn't he be locked up in the same town?"

John huffed and folded his arms. "Alright then, why don't you go? You're not allowed to change anything though, only pick up where I left off," the doctor added quickly, already knowing that Sherlock was planning to do just that.

Sherlock took a deep breath and went on with the story.

-x-

Night had only just fallen as the newlyweds rode back into town. They found Sherlock still in his office.

"What are you still doing here?" The Sheriff demanded upon opening the door to Mary and Watson. "I thought you'd both left hours ago?" Nonetheless, Sheriff Holmes stepped aside to allow the two of them indoors.

"We had," Watson began, "but something came up."

"Came up?"

"We thought you might want to see this." Watson held out the newspaper to Holmes, who took the thing and scanned his eyes across the headline.

"This… This is impossible."

"Clearly it isn't."

"Moriarty had a hefty reward on his head. He was locked up for life."

"Whatever the case was, he's out now, and I reckon he means to come back here and return the favor."

Still clutching the paper, Holmes stepped around his desk and had a seat, removing his cowboy hat and setting it down on the table. "I can't force my men into action on a reckoning, but I'm afraid you're right," he said softly.

"What would you have me do, Sheriff?"

Holmes frowned. "You? Nothing. You're still on your honeymoon. I can't ask you to spend it away from your wife just so that I can rule out some old grudges. Besides, I've more than enough men in this town who are loyal to me. They'll certainly come to my aid if asked."

Unfortunately for Sheriff Holmes, this most definitely did not end up being the case, as the following 24 hours would come to prove. Unaware of this, he wished Watson and Mary a goodnight as they headed back to their home, now set on leaving for their honeymoon destination early the following morning.

That night Holmes slept with one eye open, on the off chance that Moriarty and his men would arrive earlier than anticipated. The night remained quiet, however, and Sheriff Holmes slept peacefully in his own bed until just after daybreak, when his bedroom door was thrust open. The slamming of the unlocked wooden door slamming against the wall next to it awoke the Sheriff, and he instinctively reached for a gun he kept atop his nightstand. After a moment he set the weapon down again with a half-smile.

"Lestrade. I hope you have a good justification for such a rude awakening."

"Your landlady let me in," the Town Marshal explained. "As I'm sure you already know, late last night I was taking care of business one town over, closing some deal or another, you get the gist."

"Yes. Get on with why your affairs should concern me."

"Well, word on the road there is Moriarty was let out. He was spotted waiting at train station 'cross the county line."

"I did hear something about that," Holmes muttered. "Do you mind turning your back, Lestrade? Just while I get dressed."

"What? Oh, right. Yes. Uh. Of course." Lestrade cleared his throat and turned around before continuing: "Anyway, they didn't seem to think he was traveling alone. Waiting for a couple friends of his to turn up, from what it sounds like."

"Were you able to find out if he's headed in this direction?"

"Not definitely, no. But that's people's general consensus."

Sheriff Holmes came up beside Lestrade, now fully clothed, and took his hat from a stand close to the doorway. "I thank you for this information, Lestrade, and hope that next time you'll have the courtesy to wait downstairs before delivering such things to me." Lestrade looked down at his boots guiltily. "But with what we know of the situation as of now," Holmes went on, "I may be requiring your assistance later. So do keep in touch. Good morning." With a tip of his hat, Holmes rounded the corner and headed downstairs.

-x-

That afternoon Sheriff Holmes was seated at his desk when Deputy John Watson came into the office. Holmes looked up, somewhat surprised to see his friend.

"Deputy. I thought you and your wife had already gone hours ago?"

"That was the plan, Sheriff," Watson confessed. "However, I got to thinking, and I worry that I would not be able to live with myself, were something to happen to you while I was away. The wife agrees. That being said, we intend on sticking around. At least until all this Jim Moriarty business has blown over."

Holmes smiled somewhat, clearly touched by the man's loyalty.

"Oh, also this came for you, Sheriff," Watson remembered, holding out a sealed letter to Holmes.

Holmes took the thing and pulled open the envelope, finding a folded hand-written letter inside, which he read aloud to Watson:

"_Sheriff Holmes:_

_By now I have no doubt that you've already caught wind of my release. And I am also sure that you remember the last time we spoke I promised to end your life ever I were to be a free man again. Well, I intend to keep my promise. That being said, Sheriff, I challenge you to a duel._

_However, and although I trust you are also an honest man, excuse me while I take necessary precautions. I know that you have many men at your call who still hold resentment and would like to see me behind bars again as soon as possible. I invite them to join in on our duel as well, as I will be bringing a few pals of mine. You might recognize their faces from the wanted posters. But don't worry; I have their word that no citizens will be harmed so long as they choose not to take part in our duel._

_We expect to arrive in your beloved Little Rock Springs at exactly noon on Tuesday the twenty-eighth. _

_Until we meet again,_

_Jim Moriarty"_

Sheriff Holmes folded the letter up again and tucked it back inside of his envelope, which he set down on the desk in front of himself.

"Perhaps it is a good thing that May and I decided to stay in town," Watson muttered. "What do you intend on doing?"

"Well. As long as you're still on duty, fetch the marshal. Tell him to call a meeting with the town's law enforcement. My office."

With a curt nod and a tip of his hat, Watson left the building. Holmes watched him go for a moment before sliding back in his seat and crossing his legs over the desk. He then pressed the palms of his hands together, almost as if he were praying, so that the tips of his fingers touched up against the bottom of his chin and stared forward, deep in thought.

-x-

"Okay my turn!" Mary interrupted excitedly. Neither of the boys argued with this declaration, and so she let out an excited squeal. "Oh, this is fun, isn't?"

"Just get on with it," Sherlock sighed.

"And so I shall. It's about time we added a little conflict."

"Conflict?" echoed John. "The story's already _got_ conflict. Moriarty is the conflict."

"Yes, since _somebody _couldn't think of a single original villain…"

"Shush."

Mary shook her head. "Oh, please. Moriarty's just the thing that ties it all together. Now listen closely while I demonstrate to you the proper way of telling a story…"

-x-

Holmes had just finished explaining the situation to the law enforcement team of Little Rock Springs at the private meeting he'd had Lestrade call to order. "In summary," the man said, "Jim Moriarty and an unknown number of outlaws at his disposal will arrive at precisely 12 o'clock tomorrow. He is a cruel man, but I don't believe him to be a liar. I suspect he intends on keeping his word that no one shall be hurt who wishes to remain uninvolved in the shootout. That being said, if you are not taking part in the duel, I urge you to stay indoors and bolt shut all your doors and windows, just to be on the safe side of things. Do I hear any questions?"

A single hand raised itself amongst the huddle of men around Holmes' office. Holmes recognized it as that of Philip Anderson, a member of the police force under him.

"Yes?" Holmes addressed him.

"Well, begging your pardon, but it sounds to me as if this threat really is only directed at you," Anderson started. "Then, in theory, is this not more of a person issue? You were the one challenged to the duel, not us. Shouldn't you handle it yourself?"

A murmer ripples throughout the crowd. The Sheriff looked vaguely annoyed by this. "I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities. Were it just Moriarty challenging me to a duel then I would feel no need to drag anyone else into the dispute. However, as I've already stated, Moriarty won't be alone."

"Whether it's one man or ten, it still doesn't necessarily concern _us,_" Anderson argued.

"Does it not?" Holmes pressed, beginning to look offended. "Does it really not concern you that you might lose your sheriff over something like this, and after which allow a band of ruffians and thugs go off along their merry way?"

"All I'm saying is that if comes down to loyalty to you or the safety of the entire town-"

Holmes had raised his voice now: "You swore an oath, Anderson - you and everyone else in this department - that you would stop at nothing to defend this town and every single man, woman, and child in it! If you're having second thoughts then you might as well turn in your badge now."

There was an uneasy silence. "Fine," Anderson finally announced, stepping away from the rest of the police. "Expect to see my letter of resignation on your desk first thing in the morning."

No one spoke as the officer left the building, letting wooden doors slam behind himself. "Does anyone else feel the same?" Holmes asked after a moment, scanning his eyes across the room at the other men.

Holmes assumed that the rest of them were onboard with this, so he was very much dismayed when a second and then third officer apologized to him and took their leave as well. This prompted another three police to follow suit, leaving Holmes with only Watson and Lestrade at his side.

"Well that was… unexpected," Watson breathed. "Guess it's just the three of us, then?"

Holmes looked at Lestrade, who was very clearly refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sheriff," the marshal apologized. "If the others hadn't up and left like that it'd be a different story. But I've got a wife, see, and if I went in knowing how outnumbered we'd be…"

"You have a wife who is having affairs with another man!" Sheriff Holmes let out frustratedly. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It isn't a secret. Practically the whole town knows."

Lestrade went a bit red at this. "You don't think I know that? Still, she's my wife, and I won't let some… some _suicide mission_ take me away from her just like that! We were talking about starting a family and everything!" Lestrade paused for a brief moment to reign himself in again. "Now, I'm sorry Sheriff," the man went on again, calmer now. "I feel right bad about this - I really do - and I hope that when all is said and done you can find it in your heart to forgive me." With that the marshal tipped his hat at Holmes and Watson and took his leave of them.

Watson put a reassuring hand over Holmes' shoulder as they watched the Town Marshal go. "Well. If it means anything, I have no intention of going anywhere," he told the sheriff.

"You don't have to do this for me," Holmes said softly. "I promise you won't lose your job over it. I understand."

"Oh, but don't you know, sir? I'm not doing it out of any obligation for the job. You may be my boss, but before that you're my best friend and if you've got a problem with Moriarty, then all three of us have got a problem."


End file.
